


Fat Suit

by IOnlyWriteWhenCarmelyzed



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Anorexia, Body Dysmorphic Disorder, Bulimia, Depressed Katsuki Yuuri, Drug Use, Eating Disorders, Katsuki Yuuri Needs a Hug, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-25 05:14:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17718740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IOnlyWriteWhenCarmelyzed/pseuds/IOnlyWriteWhenCarmelyzed
Summary: How many times had he eaten bowl of cereal and then a bagel with cream cheese? How many times had he snacked throughout the day and then eaten lunch? And how many times had he eaten dinner and then eaten some more?At this point he hated himself even more than his pudgy body. He was a blob, a misshapen blob that would be trim and thin and beautiful if he couldjust stop eating.





	Fat Suit

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys, I'm Carmalyzed (￣▽￣)ノ, and this is a little something I wrote based on my own experience with these issues. I wrote this at a time when I was deep in the shit, so it may not be perfect, and any corrections/suggestions are greatly appreciated. 
> 
> Yes, I am absolutely still in the editing process, but I just had to post it ヽ(　￣д￣)ノ
> 
> **Please be aware, anyone that is struggling with eating disorders, depression, or anxiety, may feel triggered, so proceed with caution. ******

Yuuri Katsuki pulled on the fat hanging off of his stomach, pinching it to the point that it stung, as if punishing the lard for being there. He turned to the side, looking at his profile in the mirror, scoping it up in down with narrow, criticizing eyes. His thighs were gigantic, and his stomach protruded out in what was clearly a food child. Lungs inhaled as his stomach sucked in, trying to appear thinner and closer to the ribs, but it was a futile effort. 

How many times had he eaten bowl of cereal and then a bagel with cream cheese? How many times had he snacked throughout the day and then eaten lunch? And how many times had he eaten dinner and then eaten some more? 

At this point he hated himself even more than his pudgy body. He was a blob, a misshapen blob that would be trim and thin and beautiful if he could _just stop eating_. But it was hard; having to self-medicate with marijuana to escape his anxiety, be prescribed Zoloft for depression, feeling lonely and empty inside. How could he deny himself that bag of chips when he was high, or the second breakfast that Zoloft made him crave, or the feeling of fullness that put a band aid on a heart that was so empty? 

Yuuri liked to think that it was just impossible, that no matter how much he tried nothing would change, but the truth is that he was lazy and lacked the will to change. Perhaps he could turn away that second serving and run early in the morning and fast a few times a month. Yuri new it was true but that didn’t make it any easier to face every time he stared at himself in the mirror. 

It was probably a poor choice to put a full-length mirror in his room, just like it was a poor choice to ask Phitchit for his scale. He knew his bad habits but lacked the conviction to escape them. When he gazed at himself hatefully in the mirror and saw the numbers at his feet rise kilogram by kilogram it reminded him that he was failing; that he could do better. It was supposed to be motivation although it didn’t seem to be working yet, and maybe it never would. 

This feeling of disgust and misery was not a new place for Yuuri, he had visited that dark corner of his mind often when he was younger, locked in by insults and stares. Back then, it hadn’t been that hard to stop shoving food in his mouth and work out, all it took was a long look in the mirror and he was on the floor doing crunches for an hour. It had been so easy, and Yuri couldn’t understand how that fight could have left him. How could he have ever been ok with this sickening fat suit he had eaten himself into? Now, as if in divine retribution, he had Victor Nikivoraf of all people in the room down the hall calling him a pig. He wasn’t wrong, but it still hurt. 

Yuuri glanced at his dresser and swallowed thickly before walking over. Gingerly, he pulled out the top door and gazed sadly upon his mountain of pill bottles and sauce buckets. It was like opening Pandora’s box and causing horrific destruction, but choosing to open it back up anyway and release the demon once more. Chubby fingers reached out and grasped the Zoloft bottle, blurry eyes staring at it in anger and resentment. The one thing that was supposed to be helping him was causing him the most pain.

With a sudden, new found resolve Yuuri swept off to the bathroom, threw open the toilet seat and promptly dumped out the entire bottle, shaking it to ensure that he got everything. With trembling hands, he grasped the handle and flushed his happiness down the drain before he could think twice about it. Well, happiness of sorts. Don’t get him wrong, the anti-depressant had done its job, but it left a bitter after-taste that Yuri could no longer stomach. It was time to change, to unzip the fat suit and leave it behind. He couldn’t look like this anymore…he just couldn’t.  


* * *

With challenge comes change, is what Yuuri kept telling himself as he put that bagel back in the drawer for the second time. It will be worth it, he chanted in rhythm with his feet pounding on the pavement as he chased after Victor, who was taunting him on his bike. You want to be beautiful, he whispered to himself as his stomach growled and sunk its teeth into his insides while he continued to skate around the rink anyway. Nothing worth attaining in life was easy.

“Break time,” Victor called abruptly from the sideline, waving at hand and carrying two boxed lunches with the other. “Come eat lunch with me!”

Yuuri swallowed and mentally beat his stomach into submission when it growled again, long and loud. “Thanks, but not hungry yet,” Yuuri replied begrudgingly, continuing to skate around the rink.

“You need to keep your energy up, Yuuri,” Victor responded disapprovingly. “Come on, it tastes really good~!”

“I had a big breakfast,” Yuuri said with conviction. He wasn’t going to give in and stuff his face, he wasn’t a pig, not anymore.

Victor frowned, and furrowed his eyebrows, “Alright…if you say so. But don’t want you to wait too long to eat.”

“I won’t,” Yuuri replied with a forced smile, placating Victor enough for him to walk away. No, he wouldn’t wait too long to eat, just long enough. Long enough for his stomach to flatten and his thighs to shrink and his collarbones to raise out of his skin once again; long enough for him to be beautiful.  


* * *

Yakisoba flavored acid tore up his throat as his stomach finally surged and let go of its contents, orange liquid and noodles painting the toilet bowl. He hated doing this, hated the burn and muscle cramps and the lethargy that followed, but this was his punishment for failing to escape dinner. He had fought against Victor quite valiantly, but getting out of dinner two weeks in a row was apparently his max. His coach had clearly figured out that something was up and refused to let it go, ignoring Yuuri’s adamant claims of fullness and dragging him to the table. 

Yuuri could still remember those ice blue eyes boring into his skull, watching him like a hawk and counting every bit he took. It made him so self-conscious of every morsel that entered his mouth and made him want to curl into himself, force his body to be at least a smaller pig. The attention made him so anxious that he had to excuse himself from the table to take a hit, heart hammering in his chest and stomach churning and clenching in nervousness. It was a horrible feeling, but it didn’t last long. Very soon, the marijuana took over and released him from his spiraling thoughts, his mind glazed over, and his heart slowed its consistent pounding. Still feeling the want to hole himself up in his room to avoid the dreaded dinner table, Yuuri took another small hit and allowed himself to drift even farther away. Not far enough to make him immobile, but just enough to not care.

Dinner was easier after that, the high making eating much easier as the flavors exploded in his mouth, senses heightened to an extreme degree but making him lethargic at the same time. He lazily ate bite after bite, practically moaning at the textures that caressed his tongue and salivating over the juices that slid down his throat. In that moment, food had been magical, and his stomach thanked him for the first time in weeks, but now… now he was paying for being a weak-willed pig. A pig that just couldn’t help himself and deserved to have fingers shoved down his throat while tears stained his chubby cheeks. Perhaps this was a lesson, to remind him that eating had consequences. Tomorrow would be different; he would run twice as far, skate twice as long, work one hundred times harder to burn off all the excess calories he’d consumed. Yuuri vowed to fix this and make Victor call him _pretty_ rather than piggy.  


* * *

Yuuri stared down at the scale in utter hatred, hands clenched at his sides and body practically vibrating. Why couldn’t he get lower than 110? Why? He had done everything right: fasted for weeks, worked out all night and all day, binged whatever little he had eaten in the last month. He just couldn’t understand why his body was betraying him, why he was apparently trapped in the fat suit that he’d had eaten himself into. Tears dripped down his face and he hung his head in his hands as heart shattering sobs shook his entire body. 

No matter what he did, his stomach still had the audacity to bloat, his thighs looked like cottage cheese, and his face was still chubby as ever. He was nothing but a disgusting blob, and Victor could see it. Every day, Yuuri still had to endure that ugly nickname, reminding him that he had to do better. After a month with almost zero progress, Victor was sure to leave him. Yuuri crouched down and sobbed even harder. His one chance at a new beginning would finally see what a waste of time he was and kick him to the waste side. He would fly back to Russia to coach Yurio, who was thin and flexible and stunning. Beauty unlike anything Yuri could ever attain. Perhaps he should just stop trying and let his coach go; who was he to punish Victor when he was already punishing himself?  


* * *

“After the Finale, lets end this,” he said although his heart protested, pounding in fear and aching with sadness. 

“Huh?” Victor muttered, confusion laced in his tone. Yuuri clenched his fingers into his pant legs.

“You’ve done more than enough for me, Victor,” he forced, trying to keep his voice as steady and confident as possible. He didn’t want Victor pick up on the warble in his tone or the shaking in his palms. No matter how much it hurt, he wanted to make this easy for his coach; easy for him to let him go.

“Thanks to you I was able to give everything I had to my last session.” Yuuri clenched his eyes shut and dug his fingers harder into his pant legs as he bowed his head, hoping that Victor wouldn’t see the tears threatening to spring to his eyes. “Thank you for everything, Victor. Thank you for being my coach.”

Yuuri took a deep breath and slowly opened his eyes. As if mirroring his heart, small drops of water dripped onto Victors thin ankle and trailed down his half-covered foot. Yuuri’s breath caught in his throat and his eyes trailed up to meet Victors ice blue ones, clouded and drowning in tears.

His face fell completely. This isn’t what he wanted – this isn’t what was supposed to happen. “Victor?” Even to himself, he sounded lost.

It was like someone had turned on an old, broken television in the back of his mind, static filling his ears as Victor called him a selfish human being. Was it selfish to allow Victor to move onto bigger and better things? Yuuri didn’t think so, but then again, when was he ever right anymore?

“Right…” he whispered despondently . “I made this selfish decision on my own. I’m retiring.”

Victors shut his beautiful eyes, tears welling up quicker and rolling down his face in fat drips. Yuuri’s heart froze in his chest, and before he had room to think, his hand was already reaching up to swipe a silver strand away from his coach’s grief-stricken face.

Victor opened his eyes to glare at him, “What are you doing, Yuuri?”

Truth be told, Yuuri didn’t know what exactly he was doing, so he just said the first that came to mind: “I’ve just never seen you cry.”

“I’m mad, okay?” Victor snapped at him, slapping the hand away from his face. Yuuri jumped back. 

“You’re the one who said it was only until the Grand Prix Final!” Yuuri yelled back, confused and frustrated. He was giving his coach a way out, why couldn’t he just _take_ it?

“I thought you needed my help more.” Victor answered simply, and Yuuri felt even more lost.

Of course, Yuuri need his help more. He would always need his help, because Yuuri would never be what Victor needed him to be. “Aren’t you going to make a comeback?” Yuuri tried, “You don’t have to worry about me –”

“How can you tell me to return to the ice while saying you’re retiring?!” Victor yelled angrily, leaning forward towards Yuuri and suddenly gripping him by the shoulders.

Yuuri just sat on the bed, arms limp by his sides as he stared at Victor in stunned silence. He wasn’t sure why Victor was so adamant about teaching him, but he wasn’t about to let the man waste his time. Victors talent deserved to be spent on the world or on a beautiful, up and coming skater like Yurio. Not on a pig like him.

He left the room quietly that night, not saying much else, other than that he was taking a walk. Yuuri refused to look back as he closed the door on Victor.  


* * *

“We have Russia’s Yuri Plisetsky in first, with the highest ever short program score.” The announcer broadcasted through the T.V, loudly invading Yuri’s hotel room.

Yuuri glanced quickly at the screen, catching a glimpse of Yurio’s slim figure spinning on the ice, blonde hair whipping around him and blue eyes sparkling against the lights. He quickly turned back to the long mirror in front of him, rotating to the side to view his profile in relation to Yurio’s. Even with his outfit made to thin his physique, anyone could tell that he was nowhere near as cut. Yuuri sighed and turned his back on the mirror, rubbing a hand across his face in frustration, skewing his glasses. After all the work he put into his body to make it ready for the Finale, he was basically right where he started. He had just broken his plateau this morning, weighing in at 108lbs, but even still it wasn’t enough – not enough to make a noticeable difference anyway.

“Katsuki Yuuri, Japan’s ace,” The announcer declared, “hoping to turn his fourth place into a spot on the podium.”

Yuuri knew he shouldn’t, but he looked anyway. The jiggle of his fat as he performed on the ice practically covered his whole screen. Yuuri cringed and a terrible wave of nausea instantly washed over him. He slapped a hand over his mouth and rushed to the bathroom in a panic, throwing the toilet seat cover open and falling to his knees as he heaved into the bowl. The sting in his nose and throat persisted long after he had finished and left a bitter taste in his mouth that not even mouth wash could erase. His hands were clammy and pale, shaking as they gripped the edge of the toilet. Yuuri attempted his breathing techniques to calm the pounding in his chest and the tightening of his stomach, but soon gave up when another wave of sickness hit him and threw him back into the bowl. 

On shaky legs, Yuuri struggled to make it his bed where his bag lay. He unzipped the front pocket and pulled out a small bag with his pen in it. Luckily, he had filled it earlier, so he quickly took the largest hit he could and slumped onto the floor, back leaning against the edge of the bed. Heart still jackhammering against his chest, Yuuri placed his head between his knees and tried to escape somewhere else while he held his breath. He was red in the face by the time he released the smoke, but still feeling wound up tighter than a doll, Yuuri shakily filled his pen and took another hit, uncaring of just how much. 

A quietness wrapped around his body, and over the next ten minutes his mind slipped away into something calm and gentle. Yuuri knew this feeling would never last forever, but at least he could breathe while he waited for the biggest moment of his life.

It couldn’t have been more than five minutes later, when suddenly, the door made a creaking sound as it was opened.

It really did say something about Yuuri’s life that this was how his coach found him – slumped on the floor, tears staining his cheeks and breath still smelling like vomit. If not for the high that Yuuri was entrenched in at the moment, he would have jumped to his feet, tried to explain himself, maybe ran to the bathroom in a panic, or something other than just lay there. 

However, Victor seemed so far away right then, and all Yuuri wanted to do was sleep it all away.

“– you okay?” Victors voice broke softly through the haze. “Yuuri?”

Yuuri slowly opened his eyes, blinking lazily as he tried to focus on a tilting image of Victor while the room spun around behind him. It was impossible, and a head ache quickly overwhelmed him for his trouble. He instantly shut his eyes again, but the darkness seemed to spin as well, making him feel ill.

“Please, Yuuri,” he heard, and a cold hand grazed his forehead. “Please answer me.”

Yuuri parted his lips and tried to say something, anything, to tell Victor what was happening – that he would be okay – but nothing came out. No matter how hard he tried to force the words past his lips, it was like they were stuck in his throat.

“It okay, Yuuri, its okay.” Victor whispered in a rushed tone and dragged Yuri’s limp body closer to him. “You’re gonna be okay. Everything’s going to be fine.”

Those words repeated themselves over and over in Yuuri’s head, echoing in the vast expanse of his hollowed-out mind. As his body was wrapped up tighter, pulled close to something warm and comforting, Yuuri began to slip even further away. Victors words were the last thing on his mind as he finally gave into the darkness.

**Author's Note:**

> To Be Continued...
> 
> P.S: What Yuri was experiencing at the end of this chapter is based on my own experience with taking too much Marijuana. Usually I don't have a problem, but I have had an experience like that twice before. Just in case anyones like, "ThAts NoT WhaT iT FeEls LiKe."


End file.
